The Story of J
by vangiekitty
Summary: Jean ponders the reason she cheated on Scott. First in a series.


Disclaimer: The X-Men aren't mine. I just use them to satisfy my sick sexual urges occasionally. :)  
  
  
OK guys. Here's another story that's going to offend the Scott lovers among you. Sorry guys, I have to get him out of the way *somehow*. At least I'm not killing him off, right? For the purposes of this story, please consider that it is set in an alternate universe where Scott and Jean don't have their precious "psychic bond".  
This story is my nod to an X-men version of THE STORY OF O. If you haven't read it and you like erotica, check it out. (By the way, don't expect it to get hot right away. It's very loosely based on O so it takes a while to get where it's going.) Logan and Jean lovers, enjoy. Scott lovers, sorry guys. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do! vangiekitty  
  
  
The Story of J: Jean's Story  
  
I don't know how this whole thing started, I only know I seem powerless to stop it... No, let me  
  
be honest. I don't even know if I want to stop it. But I'll have to make a descision soon, because Scott  
  
comes back tomorrow night.  
  
Adultery is an ugly word, but since this record is for my eyes only, I will use it. Really, I'm just  
  
trying to put the whole thing down on paper. Maybe if it's all laid out for me, the beginning will come  
  
clear and I can start to make an end, one way or another.  
  
If I had to make an analysis, I'd have to say there were several reasons I let myself do the   
  
unthinkable. No, Jean, say it: commit adultery. Anyway, it isn't that I didn't love Scott, (although now I'm  
  
not sure if I do or not.) But if anyone had asked me, even up to two weeks ago, I would have said Scott  
  
was my one true love, my prince charming, etc. Except for the longest time, prince charming hasn't been  
  
able to get it up. Can't or won't, I don't know which but I strongly suspect the latter. And that hurts.   
  
I don't know why Scott lost interest either. Too much work, maybe. Too many responsibilities,  
  
being Xavier's fair -haired boy. Too much stress. Whatever it was, I got pushed to the bottom of the list   
  
and it seems I've been there for months, if not years. Impotence I could forgive, but not willful ignorance   
  
of my wants and needs.  
  
Don't think I didn't try to do anything about the situation, either, because I did. I read all the  
  
books, "Fix Your Marriage, Find Your Man", "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus", etc. Plus  
  
numerous woman's magazines. The books and magazines all told me one thing: it was all my fault. So I took  
  
all their helpful hints to heart. I went to Victoria's Secret and bought tons of sexy underwear. I tried fixing  
  
romantic, candlelight dinners, offering bubble baths and hot oil massages. I even tried being adventurous,  
  
as many of the articles recomended. I bought a black leather micro-mini skirt and some bondage type   
  
leather boots that went up to my thighs. I waited for Scott in this outfit *sans* top one night, meaning to  
  
get him all hot and bothered and go down on him.  
  
And what was the result of all these efforts? Scott ate the dinners, took the bubble baths and  
  
massages in stride and promptly fell asleep. But the night I wore my leather outfit had to be the worst.  
  
I've found that clothes like the little skirt and outrageous boots don't work unless you believe in them and  
  
believe in yourself *in* them. That is, if you and your partner don't get all hot and bothered by the get-up,  
  
it's more likely to seem ridiculous than anything else. So, I tried to feel sexy, to make it work inside my head  
  
so it would work inside our bed, so to speak.  
  
By the time Scott got home, I was pretty worked up. After all, it had been literally months since we'd had   
  
sex. I'd convinced myself that this was it: tonight was the night! I was ready for anything. What I wasn't  
  
ready for was nothing. No reaction at all, which was what I got, or rather didn't get when Scott walked   
  
in the door. He barely glanced at me, even in the outrageous bare-breasted dominatrix outfit. All he said   
  
was,   
  
"Hey hon, hope you didn't cook too much for dinner 'cause I sure am beat. Think I'll just turn  
  
in early." And he continued past me to the bed room. Well, of course I felt completely deflated. But I was  
  
determined not to give up so easily. I followed him into the bedroom and pressed him back on the bed.  
  
"What?" he sounded more irritated than anything but I persisted. Un buttoning and unzipping  
  
his pants, I reached inside to encounter only flaccidness and disinterest. Still, I tried. After a minuit or  
  
two, though, I had to admitt I wasn't getting anywhere. Scot was still limp as an overcooked noodle. A  
  
look of annoyance passed over his face and he pushed me away. "Not tonight, Jean. I'm just not in the   
  
mood." Then he rolled over and fell asleep. I was devastated; I had been dismissed.  
  
It was then that I think our marriage truly died, because at that point, I stopped trying too. I  
  
was just tired of being rebuffed. Scott wouldn't consider counseling. Hell, he wouldn't even admitt there was  
  
a problem! We started to sleep in seperate beds. Or rather, I moved into the guest room and Scott didn't  
  
even seem to notice. That was four months ago. Oh well.  
  
As I said, I don't know why Scott lost interest in sex, but I didn't. When we were first together, our  
  
sex life was great. I was a virgin when I came to him and he was tender and gentle. In other words, we didn't  
  
just have sex, we "made love". It was beautiful, but after the first few months, never very exciting. I always  
  
wanted to be adventurous, try something new. New didn't appeal to Scott, however; I don't think we've tried   
  
anything ouside of straight vanilla missionary -position sex more than three or four times the whole time   
  
we've been married. After a while it just became perfuntory and less and less common. Untill, as I said,  
  
it ceased all together.  
  
It seems so cold, so matter-of-fact when I read back what I have just written. But in fact, it's been  
  
very difficult for me. I've always been what my grandmother dissaprovingly called, "hot natured." Maybe  
  
it's my personality or just something in my physical make-up, but I've always liked sex. In time, after I was  
  
used to it, I even came to crave it. And just because Scott stopped giving it to me, doesn't mean I stopped  
  
wanting it.  
  
Which leads me (in a round-about way, I know,) to the reason I find myself in this situation.  
  
Because I've been walking around for the past few months in a sort of "haze" of sexual depravation. God,  
  
that sounds so silly, but it's true. Stupid but accurate.  
  
In this state of mind, I begin to take more notice of Logan. (Logan later told me he had begun to  
  
take more notice of me at the same time. Apparently, my state of constant arousal was very obvious to  
  
him. Don't ask me how.)  
  
I have always liked Logan, although he is often brooding and withdrawn. I always felt he made  
  
a genuine effort to open up and talk when he was around me. I liked to draw him out. Also, (let me admit  
  
it), there was always a kind of animal attraction between us. Maybe for the same reason that Beauty and the  
  
Beast was always my favorite fairy tale when I was a little girl. Did I think I could kiss Logan and turn him  
  
into a handsome prince? No, I don't think so. More accurate to say I'd had enough of the handsome  
  
prince for a while and was ready to try the Beast's brand of love.  
  
Then, too, I could feel Logan's interest in me . He had never bothered to hide his attraction for me,  
  
subtlety not being his strong point. But after Scott and I started into the beginning of the end of our  
  
marriage, his interest became very obvious. He *stared* at me. If he caught my eyes, he didn't look away.  
  
I read a smouldering lust in his direct gaze that made me feel like a lame antelope singled out by the lion.  
  
And I wanted, so badly, to be brought down. I started to dress a little sexier when I knew I'd be seeing  
  
Logan. It was flirtation from afar.  
  
Still, nothing might have come of it, our mutual attraction, if we hadn't been left alone for nearly  
  
two weeks in the mansion together.   
  
**************************more next chapter***************************** 


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